FORGET YOU LAUREN

CHAPTER 4

Craigslist: network of centralised online communities that deliver ads

IRS: revenue service of the Federal Government of the United States
Track 3: Should've Said No (2:41)
Camila POV
Weeks later, I took some final photos of SS World Odyssey when I last landed. I made sure to capture several photos of the rock wall that I often climbed on its own, the upper decks I walked through every morning, and the part of the ship I would certainly miss the most. The stern where I spent most of my idle time, having coffee and writing letters to "friends", who almost never answered.
Putting my camera in my bag, I lifted my umbrella and walked to the luggage storage area. I made my way through all the watery eyes meeting and found my two suitcases. One for novel books, one for clothes.
I took my phone and saw what I hadn't seen for more than minutes in more than three years. Real bars for cell phone service.
I scrolled to my father's name and called, waiting like hell that he wouldn't answer.
"Camila?" He crushed my hopes after a touch. "Camila, are you back today?"
"Yes".
"Wow. For some reason, I thought it would be tomorrow."
Because I told you it was tomorrow. "Well, no. I just got off the ship and I'm about to take a taxi to my apartment during the fall. I can send the address when I get there."
"Well, if you want to wait about twenty minutes, Stella and I can go get her. Looks like a storm is about to happen."
"No, it's fine." My stomach turned with the mention of his second wife's name. "I'll take a taxi and send you the address later."
"OK well..." He took a break. "I'm so glad you came home safely, and I appreciated the mail and the photos you used to send home. I also appreciate you using the ship's phone to call me every Sunday. It almost seems like you never left." He was quiet again. "I love you".
"I love you too, Dad." I closed the call, feeling a familiar pain in my chest. Whenever we both spoke, the words "I love you" always touched the void, and I always felt that something was missing.
When the soft drizzle turned into a heavy rain, I made my way to the taxi platform and waved to the first yellow car.
"Where, miss?" The driver opened the passenger door for me before putting my luggage in the trunk.
"Beach Tree Cove 235".
He nodded and ran to the street.
As he drove, I looked out the window and picked up all the things I really missed from this city. The outdoor cafes that were on Main Street, the boutique hotels and the carnival pier that stood next to the tourist on the beach, and the white sand that stretched all over the beautiful coast of our city. Even in the heavy rain, the city was perfectly picturesque, and I couldn't wait to explore everything again in the sunlight.
Half an hour later, the taxi stopped in front of Beach Tree Cove 235, and I checked again to make sure the address was correct. I tipped the driver for putting my luggage on the front door and the second he left, I rang the doorbell.
No answer.
I played again.
No answer, again.
Confused, I knocked on the door as hard as I could.
She opened immediately and found myself face to face with Meredith Green, a girl I had met on the trip the previous semester.
"Camila Cabello?" She smiled. "I can't believe you're finally off the ship! What the hell are you doing here?"
"I live here, remember?" I gave her an olive branch that I had preserved from Greece. "I sent a letter in the mail and told her I was willing to be your roommate. I can get my father's money tomorrow."
"Huh?" She seemed confused, but opened the door. "I never received a letter from you, Mila. I swear. And I already have a roommate." She scratched her head. "Why didn't you email me or access me on Facebook?"
I resisted the urge to moan. I never stopped being surprised how quickly some people - especially some of the people who had gone through the Semester at Sea - forgot that the ship did not have Wi-Fi and, as far as I remember, she spent the first five days of the trip crying for not having access to Facebook.
Before I could give her the best version of my thoughts, she laughed.
"Oh, duh!" She hit her forehead with her palm. "No Wi-Fi and no Facebook. I'm so glad to be out of that crap. I had to wait four whole months to share my photos online, and I felt I was going to die. Let's see if I can find your letter."
I followed her to the living room, looking around the piles of clothes and garbage bags that covered every inch of the floor.
"Is today laundry day?" I asked.
"Ha! No, I haven't cleaned up since I moved. I'll have to do this after classes start next week."
A blue-eyed Siamese cat purred and sat on top of her high pile of bras, and I followed her to the kitchen.
She opened a cupboard under the sink and I looked at the rusty cockroaches and the rat traps that were under the pipes. To the dying beetle that was shaking its legs as a final sign of life.
"I have so many closed letters," Meredith said, picking up two bags full of envelopes. "There are credit card applications, bills and the IRS keeps sending me the same Urgent Tax Notice envelope month after month."
"Hum". I cleared my throat. "You may want to open the IRS sooner or later."
"Eh". She shrugged. "This is so oppressive. If someone wants me to read something, I don't understand why they can't just send an email. The IRS can do the same, you know?"
"Yes..." I noticed ants crawling on their countertop. They were making a line towards the Fruit Loops cereal crumbs. "My letter must be in a purple envelope."
"Well, that makes it a lot easier." She threw the mail bags at the other counter and took two envelopes out of my stationery."
"Wow!" She looked at them for a few seconds. "These are really beautiful."
"Thank you".
"Sincerely, I can't believe you had time to write me something!" She smiled and walked to the kettle, ignoring the line of ants. "I've never received a letter from a friend in royal mail before. I want to make sure I taste it correctly."
"Do you want some tea?" she asked, pulling two cups.
"I'd love to."
She handed me one with a tea bag and I almost choked. There was a yellow crust ring and a dead ant inside it.
When the water boiled, she filled our glasses and sat on the counter. Then she opened my letter and read it out loud, as if I was no longer aware of what she was saying.
***
Dear Meredith,
Happy birthday to SS World Odyssey! I hope you are having a lot of fun on land, and I hope you have some strong shots in honour of your special day!
With love and candles,
Camila Cabello.
***
"Awww!". She smiled and tore the second one.
***
Dear Meredith,
I hope this letter finds you well! I'm writing to you because, as you know, the Wi-Fi on the ship is non-existent and I wanted to make sure it would arrive long before the start of the fall semester. You mentioned the need for a roommate before leaving, and I can be the right person! I can pay the rent for the first two months and the security deposit at the rate you mentioned the second I return this fall.
Write back and keep my room,
Camila Cabello.
***
"Ah!" She looked at the letter. "Your lyrics are so beautiful, Camila. I wish I could write like this. Anyway, I'm sorry I can't help you with a seat this semester. Then again, you could have tried to send an email when you arrived in a port city and maybe I could have a place for you."
I bit my tongue. This conversation wasn't worth it, and from the look of her apartment, I was sure we wouldn't be well roommates anyway.
Why is she still ignoring all those ants?
"Here's something that can help you," she said, handing me a copy of the student's newspaper. "This is the edition that just came out. Tons of people are still looking for roommates for the semester, so maybe you'll be lucky to find a place to stay. Oh, and don't forget Craigslist."
"Thank you".
"You're more than welcome to stay on my couch for a few nights if you want." She went to the couch and took panties off the cushion. "Let me clean it first."
I forced myself to smile and nod my head. I watched it as she pulled a used condom under a pillow, so I immediately opened the paper.
There is no way in hell that I will stay here tonight.
The "Roommates are searched for" ads were listed alphabetically by street names and from what I could see, the monthly rental prices are less than half of what Meredith quoted me earlier.
"Okay, I may have to spray this sofa before I sleep on it," she said, making me look at it. "It seems that some ants are still enjoying last week's Snicker crumbs, but they are just ants. I will make sure they are dead and vacuumed in no time."
She left the room before I could answer, and I picked up my phone to call a new taxi.
I looked at the ads once again and noticed a beautiful photo ad for a house that was several streets from the main campus. The house was huge and absolutely stunning, with sandy shutters and private deck overlooking the beach.
Is this a rooftop pool?
***
Avenida Baía Rosa 301. Two college students looking for roommates in a luxury beach house (Yes! That's a pool on our roof, bitches!)
Hot tub, swimming pool, games room and plenty of space for you to study (or not, if you are a veteran like me). You will have your own bathroom and your own furnished room overlooking the sea.
HIGHLY PREFERRED NON-SMOKING MEN.
Call Greg Charleston III at 555-8718 for more info + tour.
I looked at the ad again, frowning at the "preference" line in the description, but saved the contact information on my phone anyway.
"Hey Mila, do you put this paper down and come help me with the couch?" Meredith left with a bottle of bleach and a handheld vacuum cleaner. "It happens that all these insects are not ants..."